Affection
by Rinkinkirs
Summary: It was an abomination born out of accident. They were never supposed to care too much. Fred/George, slash, twincest.


**Author's Note**: I'm officially insane. Don't judge me too harshly.

**Pairing/Characters:** Fred/George, hinted pre-Harry/Draco if you squint. Mentions of other characters.  
**Words:** 1243  
**Summary:** It was an abomination born out of accident. They were never supposed to care too much.  
**!Warnings:** slash, incest/twincest, angst, AU-ish. Read at your own risk.

* * *

**Affection**

"Social relationships" was a wide concept that left room for many interpretations. Theirs was special, and neither was sure why. Yes, they were brothers, even twins, but that did not account for the affection that went far beyond brotherly. It was filthy and disgusting, but Fred found he could not help it; and if George's reactions every time they touched by accident were any indication, it was mutual, as were many of their aspects. Still… he knew that George looked at guys. _Looked_. And he hated it. It was unfair that they were born brothers, as if being men were not enough of an obstacle in society. He kept his distance, hoping that by allowing George a life of his own the attraction would subside, but his insides were boiling and squirming so badly that his face twisted in hurt, _agony_, whenever he saw George touching someone else, no matter the innocence of the situation. Lee had noticed, but he did not say anything; he, more than anyone else, understood the power of their bond. With certain amounts of panic Fred was afraid he would notice the exact nature of that bond; but if he did, he said nothing.

-

George remembered Ron saying that everything was possible concerning the twins; he was sincerely starting to doubt it. The two were cheerful around others, and while genuinely cheerful most of the time, there were times… there were times when he glanced at Fred's lips and wondered how they would feel on his lips, his neck, his… It scared him. Immensely. He pretended not to notice the face of betrayal Fred bore as George disrespected comfort zones, ignoring his own completely in the hunt for distraction. He knew what his brother was thinking; he was thinking the same. That knowledge terrified him the most. What deepened his embarrassment and shame was Lee's questions when curiosity finally got the better of him.  
"What's the deal with you two?" he'd said, frowning. "You're so tense around each other these days that you'd think you were ex-lovers or something. Just shag and get it over with."  
Of course, it was just one of those less tasteful jokes that were the trademark of Lee Jordan, but George had fallen terribly silent, and Lee seemed to understand, at last, their situation.

-

Their lips had met, once. They had surrendered to each other, to bliss, to sexual frustration, intoxication: once. It was never supposed to be anything else. It was never supposed to make them awkward around each other, even to the point of obvious discord. It… It wasn't _that_ wrong, was it? Technically, they shared the same body, blood, family… everything. And everything was wrong. Everything _was_ wrong, and he could never deny it. Lee was trying to make them talk, but Fred could see no other option but to alienate themselves from each other. They were not safe, they could not be trusted, and he certainly did not trust himself. Not after that time. Not after the dreams, and the yearning; and more than anything, after the longing for everything to be as it used to be: when he could admire George in silence and no one knew, not even Fred himself. Those days were gone, and would never return.

-

The secret passages were useful to avoid Lee. He did not avoid Fred in the same way. Not exactly. He… Well, he fled. With style, mind, and in such a manner that no one but Lee was suspicious. Lee's doubt was anticipated, considering what George had inadvertently let slip, and that _did not_ count. Oh, sure, Ron's casual remark about them spending less time together made him jolt, but if Hermione had noticed anything she was bright enough not to mention it. The knowing eyes, filled with compassion, were almost worse than words. He was relieved by the absence of disgust, however. Perhaps there was still hope for the two of them. Apart, that was; he couldn't see them ever regaining their old, carefree banter.

-

Every time they spoke was awkward, tense – everything it never used to be and never should have turned to. He tried not to be jealous when George asked Angelina on a date. It's nothing personal, he told himself; and even if it was, who was he to complain? Yet he stared at Angelina with a whole new sense of loathing, one that resembled the look on Ron's face whenever he spotted Malfoy, and he suddenly understood how his brother valued his friendship with Harry; Harry seemed oblivious, both to the glances Malfoy sent him and the glances Harry sent to Malfoy. Fred decided, yet again, that the world was evil and that its sense of sarcasm was horrendous.

-

George really liked Angelina. The problem was that he could not fall in love with her, any more than he could fall out of love with Fred. He tried kissing her, even a small amount of touching; he felt nothing, other than disgust for taking advantage of someone else as a mere distraction, not to mention the guilt he felt about letting Fred see them as an official couple. He told Angelina he wanted to go slow, and she was understanding, held back from kissing too deeply, and was very nice in general. She was a great friend – but to him, that was all there was. What he wanted more than anything was to get away from everything; Lee, Angelina, and more than anything, less than anything, he wanted to get away from Fred and the hurt look on his face and the memories, the _memories_.

-

Fred woke up, and realised that he was tired. He was tired of feeling sick every day, tired of jealousy, tired of desperation; tired of his brother. He did the only thing he could do: he cornered George in one of the deserted passages – hiding from Angelina, who seemed more confused every time he saw her – and approached him silently. George turned his head, stared at him, but said nothing. He didn't have to; Fred sat down beside him, leaning on his shoulder, while George put an arm around him, and he wet his lips, a nervous gesture they also shared.  
"It's not _that_ wrong… is it?"  
George said nothing, but the arm around Fred tightened its hold. Tears were helpless and would achieve nothing. Words would only make it real; words could only judge them.

-

After their reconciliation Fred stopped talking to him. He spoke to others in the manner he always had, but his communication with George halted. They no longer finished each other's sentences, could no longer exist side by side as the friends they were supposed to be. Lee asked George what was wrong with Fred, and with a stone in his throat he told him that he did not know, nor was it likely that he found out. Lee, so different with a serious frown on his face, had only stared at him, noticing how bitter George's voice was; he said nothing.

-

Fred was too shocked to react when Lee kissed him; regardless, Lee was thrown across the hallway with such force that a terrifying _thump_ sounded when he hit the stone wall, and everyone stared at George's face, filled with betrayal so desperate that his eyes reflected madness. Then he turned around, stared at Fred's shocked expression, and kissed him.

And at last there was silence.


End file.
